


The Last Dance: A Short Story

by easterlystars



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Angst, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easterlystars/pseuds/easterlystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Han Geng performs one last dance for Kibum, who is slowly withering away. Set in 2007. Cross-posted from LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Dance: A Short Story

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really old fanfic. I wrote this back in June 2008 for a Super Junior writing challenge that was hosted at LiveJournal. I don't use my LJ anymore. I actually haven't even properly written a fic since 2008, lol. But I decided to make an AO3 account recently, so I might as well share this fic here too.
> 
> This fic was actually inspired by a very touching piece of Donghae fanfiction I read many years ago. Unfortunately, I cannot find the story again.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 8D
> 
>  
> 
> [Original post](http://blabby-lwy.livejournal.com/18750.html)

It was a routine. I remember I used to see Kibum every morning in the dance studio practicing when we were still preparing for our second album. I would always laugh as I see Kibum slip and fall at the same move over and over again. He would glare at me, hit my head and would tell me to stop laughing at him. “I’m trying,” he would always say to me in the same whiny voice. I would tell him that I know. We all know.  
But that day, Kibum wasn’t dancing.

I remember that day. I was sweaty and exhausted, just returned from an early morning recording, carrying my elephant-heavy sports bag on one arm, and a box of syrup-dripping pancakes I prepared for Kibum on the other. I remember I nearly tripped on a thick electric chord that was on the glassy floor in front of the door. I remember I found Kibum sitting cross-legged in the middle of the dance floor staring at his reflection on the mirror, instead of seeing the usual dancing Kibum I found every morning. That was not how the mornings went. Usually. I remember Kibum’s tired eyes, slowly darting toward my reflection on the mirror when he saw me coming in to the dance floor looking clumsy as I carried the heavy bags on my arms.

“Hey, hyung.” His voice was barely audible.

“You’re not dancing.” I knew my voice came out harsher than I wanted it to. I was expecting him to be dancing. I wanted to see some improvements. After all, our company wanted us to be finished with everything in two weeks. I dropped my sports bag to the floor.

Kibum frowned. “Yeah…” he turned back to his reflection on the mirror, his voice drifting off.

I bit my lip. “Is something wrong?” I sat next to him and opened the box of pancakes that I just placed in front of him. “Here’s breakfast,” I said and gave him a plastic fork.

“I forgot how to dance to the song.”

I could recall myself starring at Kibum’s reflection on the mirror and almost dropped the fork I gave him, a little surprised at what I heard. Kibum was known to have great memory. If he could remember the dance Jongwoon came up with back in our trainee days that involved a single swan feather and a pair of scissors, which alone was enough to leave all twelve of us choking our spit, Kibum was born for great memory.

“But, Kibum.” I said, clearing my throat. “How can you forget? We just learned this yesterday.”

“I don’t remember anything, hyung,” Kibum said quietly and calmly without looking at me as he slurped the slab of pancake. “It’s… it’s been like this for a while.”

I slowly agreed with a slight nod, remembering how when we were still recording our second album Kibum had to sing his lines reading a cheat-sheet, something he normally did not need. “You’re getting old,” I joked.

Kibum smiled gently.

“Okay, then.” I stood up. “Watch me. I’ll show it to you again.”

*

“Hey, do you know what’s wrong with Kibum?” Donghae came up to me and asked two weeks later as I was busy preparing fried rice in the kitchen. “He’s been forgetting the dance steps, you know, “Don’t Don’s” dance steps. We’ve been dancing to this song the past week on music programs and he’s still asking for help everyday. He’s always slipping.”

I frowned. “Yeah, I realized that Kibum’s memory is fading recently.”

Donghae walked up to my side and leaned his chin on my shoulder; I could feel his eyes tracing the soy sauce that I was pouring onto the rice in the frying pan. “Hyung, I’m worried, for us and for him.”

“Me too. Do you think something’s bothering him that is making him act so weird?”

I watched Donghae knit his eyebrows together. “He’s been doing nothing but practicing in the dance studio and doing vocal practices at the recording studio all week after the comeback. I’ve never seen him so dedicated before. Is that acting weird?”

“But he’s still forgetting the dance steps and the lyrics.”

“Yeah.”

“Something’s wrong.”

*

“Kibum! Pancakes!” I stepped into the dance studio and found Kibum dancing to our comeback single in full blast. I frowned as I saw him tumbling and slipping.

“Argh!” Kibum ripped his cross necklace out of his neck and threw it to the floor. He kicked the radio and the music went dead.

I stared at him. I’ve never seen Kibum so angry before. “Is something wrong?” I walked up to him cautiously, my voice slightly shaking. “You’re acting… weird.”

Kibum growled. “I can’t dance! I can’t sing! I can’t even act! What the fuck is wrong with me?” He pulled his hair. “I’m so fucking useless!”

He dropped to his knees and cried.

I felt stupid standing there watching him cry, not knowing what to do. Several times I opened my mouth to speak, hoping that some consoling words would roll out of my tongue, but I couldn’t find the right words. It hurt to watch him cry. The muscles in my stomach tightened.

“Hey,” I said two minutes later. “Watch me.”

Kibum hesitantly looked up, his eyes red and puffy.

I did a twirl and faced him, smiling. I spread my arms out like wings, and sang, “I’m a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my sprout.” Feeling stupid, I jumped into the air and kicked, landing on the floor with another kick. “Ugh… sorry, I had to do that.”

Kibum laughed, soaking in his sobs. “Oh my god, hyung, where did you learn that nursery rhyme?”

I raised my eyebrows. “That doesn’t matter, as long as it makes you laugh,” I said, refusing to tell Kibum that Heechul now had an addiction of watching American children shows.

Kibum immediately turned scarlet. I laughed.

“Now do you feel better?”

Kibum smiled and nodded.

“Okay, eat,” I demanded, pointing at the bag of pancakes that were lying in front of him. “You need energy to dance.”

Kibum immediately grabbed the bag and gobbled down the pancakes.

I smiled as I watched him eat. Kibum was easy to please, then.

*

The week went by fast but tiring from the amount of schedules and appearances we had to fulfill. Kibum was still stumbling on some of his dances, but he still managed to lead the dance when I was absent for the M!Countdown performance. Donghae was rambling on about Ninja Turtles with Kibum again, and I knew things were finally getting back to normal for him. It wasn’t until the eighth day after Kibum cried about his inability to dance when things began to slightly change.

I looked intently at Kibum as he tried to scoop some rice from his plate and into his mouth with shaking hands. His hands dropped back down, almost spilling rice all over the table.

“What’s with all that clanging?” Jungsu asked as Kibum’s spoon dropped onto his plate with a loud cling, tearing his eyes away from the Vivian Hsu magazine.

“Is something wrong with your hands?” I asked Kibum, frowning.

“No,” Kibum said curtly as he grabbed his spoon and tried to scoop up the rice to his mouth again.

After watching Kibum attempting several more times, he finally gave up and left the breakfast table.

I watched him stagger back to his room. He didn’t even bother to close the door.

*

“I – he – what?” I said instead, my mind unable to formulate the right words. I stared at the doctor with bewilderment. My heart pounded.

He repeated, saying some kind of long medical word that I wouldn’t even be able to understand even if it was said in Mandarin. My ears went faulty and my mind swarmed as the doctor explained. What was that suppose to mean?

Tears were starting to pour out of my eyes as I looked at Kibum, who was staring blankly at the window behind the doctor’s desk.

*

I returned back to our dormitory, holding Kibum’s hands.

I didn’t know how to break it out to the members, but it turned out that Manager Jongjun had told them through the phone.

“So it’s true,” Donghae squeaked in a high voice with watery eyes.

“Kibum,” Shiwon choked. He walked up to Kibum and hugged him.

“I want to be alone,” Kibum whispered, freeing himself away from Shiwon. He walked to his room and didn’t bother to close his door again.

*

“Another stack,” Jungsu came into the apartment and threw the stack of envelopes on the coffee table. “They’re all for Kibum. There are still two large bags outside,” Jungsu added in bluntly, wiping sweat off of his forehead with his wrist. “I bet fans are wondering what’s wrong with him.” He pointed at Kibum, who was impatiently trying to hold a pen. I watched Jungsu watch Kibum with pity. He lightly sniffed, and stalked back outside, carrying in another bag.

“You hold it like this,” I said softly to Kibum, arranging his fingers on the pen.

A tear trickled down his cheek as I guided him to write his name on the paper. “Do you think you will be able to sign all of that?” I asked him gently, pointing at the envelopes. “If not, I can do it for you.”

“I don’t need help,” Kibum’s words slurred. He grabbed one from the stack and signed his name hastily. “I can still do it.”

Kibum struggled to hold the pen again. I helped him.

*

“Can they really talk? I mean, that.”

Kibum pointed at the stuffed parrot I was holding as I walked into his room.

“If you teach them, yeah,” I placed the parrot on Kibum’s pillow.

“I want them to talk to me,” Kibum pouted, crossing his arms.

“I can talk to you, Kibum.”

Kibum grinned toothily and looked up, deep in thought. “Hey, hyung… can you teach me?”

I looked at him pointedly. “Hm?”

“Can you teach me that dance you showed me that day?” Kibum spread his arms out like an eagle. “This dance!”

I smiled, realizing only now that I had been crying.

*

Two months slowly dragged by, and Kibum’s condition was getting worse. Heechul and I stopped updating on how Kibum had been doing on our cyworlds; we didn’t want the fans to know. Our company released an official announcement stating that Kibum was not in Korea anymore, but on a long vacation in America with his parents. Kibum moved from his room to a nearby hospital. We would visit him every night when we were free from our schedules, or tried to be – Shiwon had to come up with an excuse to postpone his magazine photoshoot that night so he could give Kibum the paper parrot he folded.

“He’s forgetting,” Shiwon told me that night. “He’s starting to forget who I am.” He cried gently on my shoulder as I patted his head with consoling hands.

“He said he wanted to see me with brown hair again before,” Sungmin sniffed. “He doesn’t remember.”

“Kibum promised that he would teach me more English,” Jongwoon groaned, sinking into the couch. Youngwoon kicked a chair and stormed into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I nodded, wishing for Kibum to get better so we could be Super Junior again.

*

“Show me that dance… one more time,” Kibum said weakly as I entered the hospital room. “He… that guy with orange hair… tried to show me, but it didn’t look the same.”

“Hyukjae hyung,” I corrected him. Tears were pouring out of my eyes.

“Hyung, please,” Kibum begged. “I want to see it.”

I choked through my words as I sang the same nursery rhyme I showed him three months ago. I did a twirl and then a kick, and landed softly beside him. “Don’t cry, hyung,” Kibum’s quivering hand reached up to my face to wipe away my tears. I held it tightly. “It’s weird.” Kibum showed me his geeky grin, causing me to cry harder.

“I feel good when I see you dance.”

I remember I cried myself to sleep that night, the first time in sixteen years.

*

I visited him again today. As I walked into the room, Kibum struggled to count the flower petals that were lying on his quilt. Maybe Heechul came today.

“Bummie! Look who is here to visit you today?” A stubby nurse in her mid forties chirped happily as she opened the door.

Kibum looked up and smiled like how Youngwoon used to.

“Give me five minutes, I’ll be back,” the nurse said and stepped out of the room.

“Hey,” I smiled. “I’m finally done with recording all of our dances this past year,” I showed him the tape. “It even has my teapot dance!”

“Thanks!” Kibum cried cheerfully and snatched it out of my hands. “What teapot dance? Um…” he slowly looked up at me, his face distorted with confusion. “Who… who are you again?”

The smile I saved for Kibum was no longer there anymore.


End file.
